


To Repaint Blue Skies

by operatorrhythmi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, On Hiatus, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operatorrhythmi/pseuds/operatorrhythmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to my waterbutlershipping story, Come With Me. This story takes place after the events of CWM, showing the life Siebold and Cress have worked to create together. Though, during Siebold's counseling sessions, we learn far more about his past with Jean, and his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

To Repaint Blue Skies

 

Prologue

 

**Friday, 22 November 2019. Noon. Dendemille Town.**

 

            The constant ticking of the clock drew Siebold’s eyes in its direction. His appointment was at noon, but his counselor was running behind by nearly ten minutes.

            He sighed, leaning back in the plush couch. It was the first time he was alone in the room, giving him a chance to really look at his surroundings. There wasn’t much to the small space. The window overlooking the river was all the room really had to offer.

            “Siebold.”

            He turned at hearing his name. He stood up, walking over to the small woman, smiling at him.

            “How has your week been?” Nina asked, just as she had at the start of his previous visits.

            “Fine, I suppose,” he answered, just as he had before.

            Walking into her office, he took his seat, waiting for her to grab her clipboard. “Now,” she began, looking over her notes. “There was something I meant to ask you last week, but we ran out of time before I could ask.”

            He nodded, allowing her to continue.

            “You mentioned to me that you used to be a painter, but you don’t anymore. When did you stop painting?”  
            The answer required no thought. “When my father died. Though, I would argue that I stopped devoting myself to it when my mother left.”  
            She nodded, writing down a few words on what he presumed was her timeline for him. “How so?” She asked.

            He shrugged, glancing over at the plant on her desk. “All my paintings no longer looked as good as they should have. Cress has also pointed out a distinct difference in the paintings prior to my mother leaving, and after.”  
            “What would that be?”

            “I stopped painting blue skies. Everything was darker –more muted. They look terrible.”

            “I would say that’s a very symbolic reflection of your state of mind,” she noted.

            He passed a breath of amusement. “Cress said the same thing,” he responded.

            “Have you repainted a blue sky?”

            He shook his head, finally bringing his eyes back to hers. “No. I can’t bring myself to do it. Even now.”

            “Have you tired?” She asked.

            Fiddling with the ring on his finger, he answered, “Admittedly, no.”

            She began making notes again. “Maybe we could make that one of your goals during this,” she told him, peering over her clipboard.

            He knew exactly what she was insinuating, however, he still gave her a questioning look.

            “To repaint blue skies.”


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

 

 

**Friday, 22 November 2019. Noon. Dendemille Town.**

 

            Nina remained silent for a moment, letting her brown eyes scan over her clipboard. “So, okay,” she began, looking back up to Siebold. “Now that I have an overall summary of your past to now, lets start at what I’m feeling is the beginning of everything: the day you met Jean.”        

            Siebold sighed in response, adverting his gaze. He always found it difficult to keep eye contact with her when he was speaking about Jean. She hadn’t commented on it, but it didn’t stop him from worrying that she might think it was a sign of him maybe lying.

            “Well,” he began, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “I knew of Jean’s existence since I was probably nine. My father hired him when he was seventeen as an apprentice of sorts. However, I didn’t formally meet him until I was fourteen…”

 

 

**_Saturday, 1 January 2011. Noon. Apple Of The Earth._ **

 

            The resounding clatter that filled the kitchen was almost disorienting to Siebold. For his birthday, his father had decided it was time he start learning more about the business he would later be promised.

            He had been to the restaurant plenty of times. His entire life up until that point had involved the restaurant in some way or another. Countless hours of his childhood had been wasted in his father’s office.

            Now, following his father around the restaurant, he almost wished he could go back to those days. Everything was being explained to him so fast, he worried he might not remember everything.

            “Siebold,” his father’s voice caused him to jump.

            Snapping his attention to the older man, he noticed he was now standing next to someone.

            “I’d like you to meet Jean. He’s worked here for almost three years now, and he’s the new saucier.”

            He looked to the man standing just a little above him. “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted, unsure of what to say from there.

            Jean smiled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

            “Future? He’s starting today! I promised him that he could start working on his fourteenth birthday.” Jean seemed to take special interest in the information, but before he could say anything else, the caller said an order, forcing Jean back to the kitchen.

            Siebold shrugged, still adverting his gaze elsewhere. “I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m starting _today_.”

            His father laughed. “Of course you are! I always do a complete walk-through with everyone on their first day! After that, you and I are just going to plate check everything. I want you to first be familiar with how the dishes look. While I trust my chefs completely, its also up to the server to know how the dishes are supposed to look as well.”

            Siebold nodded, continuing to shadow his father for the night.

 

 

            Siebold’s feet ached by the time they reached home. He always had a respect for servers and what they did, but after one night of going through what they dealt with daily, he had an even deeper respect for them.

            Slinging his bag over the back of the dining room chair, he sat down, resting his head on the table.

            “Long day?”

            He looked up at his mother as she walked in the room to join him.

            He nodded, sitting up straight. “I didn’t realize standing for so long was so difficult,” he replied.

            She smiled at him, ruffling his hair. He immediately combed his fingers through it, fixing the damage she had caused.

            “Did you like it at least?” She asked, pulling the chair next to him out.

            He shrugged. “It was interesting…”

            “Do you think you’d like to go into the restaurant business one day?” She watched him pull out his sketchbook and place it on the table. He flipped through a few pages, most of which were marked out with a big, penciled, X.

            “I don’t know,” he responded, now digging for a pencil to finish his drawing.

            Leaning forward, she watched him work on his drawing of a Blastoise and a Clawitzer.

            “You _are_ quite the artist. Maybe go to an art university?” She asked.

            He stopped drawing. “I’m only 14…”

            She laughed, leaning back in her seat. “It’s never too early to think ahead, mon cheri.”

            He remained silent, continuing his drawing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Friday, 22 November 2019. Afternoon. Dendemille Town.**

 

 

            Walking into his house, a warm smell of food cooking was the first thing to greet him. It brought a small smile to his face as he placed his coat on its hanger.

            Heading for the kitchen, Cress was the next to greet him. “You didn’t have to do this,” he commented, almost feeling guilty for making Cress go out of his way.

            His fiancé shook his head, giving him a roll of the eyes. “I promised you I would,” he reminded. “How did today go?” He asked, making room for Siebold to stand next to him.

            “Fine, I suppose. I’m still not used to doing this much talking in regards to myself.”

            Cress completely understood that. Siebold was a man of few words; that everyone knew. When he did talk, though, it was rarely about himself.

            “She wants me to try painting again, though,” he added.

            This interested Cress. “I think that would be a wonderful idea,” he responded, taking a pot off the stove.

            The way Siebold started shifting around told him that he wasn’t too sure about the idea, however.

            “I don’t even think we still have my old easel, much less any canvases.” Cress had learned that this was his way of reasoning to himself that he shouldn’t go look for them.

            “We do, actually. They’re in the front spare room, tucked away in the closet.”

            “Are you sure?” Siebold asked, following him over to the table.

            “Yes. I made sure the movers grabbed them. I think there’s at least one canvas, too.”

            Siebold sat down, not completely sure of what to say. He had half hoped they lost them in the move. “I’ll…probably need to buy some new paint, though. I can’t imagine whatever might be in there would be of any use,” he reasoned.

            Cress withheld a sigh as he sat the pot on a potholder. At the very least, he knew he was considering it, and that was a start.

 

 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

 

**Friday, 29 November 2019. Noon. Dendemille Town.**

 

            “Let me ask you about the day your mother left,” Nina prompted.

            It left a sick feeling in his stomach. He was silent for so long, Nina worried she might have upset him too much.

            “If you want to skip this for now, it’s fine,” she told him.

            He shook his head, forcing himself to let go of the breath he was holding onto. “No, it’s fine. I know I need to, I just don’t _want_ to.” He gave himself a few more seconds before continuing. “It was a Sunday, I believe. My mother was a restaurateur. She was always leaving on trips, helping people start their own restaurants…”

 

 

 

**_Sunday, 9 October 2011. Noon. North Lumiose City._ **

 

            Sitting at his desk, Siebold concentrated on his homework. The week’s lessons had been difficult, and he was finding it hard to keep any time for himself.

            A light knock at his door broke his concentration. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his mother standing in the doorway, a small suitcase at her side.

            “Siebold,” she started.

            He turned in his chair, giving her a confused look. He hadn’t remembered her saying anything about another business trip. He hadn’t had time to pay any attention.

            “I’ll be back soon, okay?” She said, and it sounded more like a question.

            “Okay?” He responded, unsure why she was sounding so upset. It was rare she didn’t want to go on a business trip.

            He figured that maybe it wasn’t looking like a good case she was about to pick up.

            Abandoning her suitcase, she carefully walked over to her son. She kissed his temple. “I love you. Be good.”

            He didn’t like her tone, but the call of his studies outweighed against saying anything. “Love you, too,” he responded, watching her leave.

            Hours later, his homework behind him, his father returned in time for the house staff to serve dinner.

            “Where’s your mom?” James asked, approaching the table.

            Siebold looked up at him, shrugging. “I don’t know…she said she would be back soon, though. Did she have another business trip?”

            His father paused, careful about what he might say. “Maybe. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t think to ask. Some husband I am, huh? Don’t be like me when you’re older,” he said, trying to laugh it off.

            Returning to his coat, he dug around its pockets for his phone. Surly she was just on a business trip.

            Scrolling to her number, he hit dial, and held it to his ear. It went directly to voicemail.

            He told himself to not think anything of it. If she was on a trip, she would likely still be on an airplane, where it would have to be off. He would try again in an hour.

            He relayed his thought process to his son, trying his best to sooth any worries he might have.

            Sitting in uncomfortable silence through dinner, James was itching to call again. Dismissing himself early, he gave in.

            _“Your call has been forwarded to an automated-“_

            He hit end before it could finish.

            Every half hour he would go through the same process. As much as he tried to not show his own fear, he knew he was worrying his son.

            “Go to bed, Siebold.   I’ll wait up for her. I’m sure she forgot to charge her phone.” Seeing he wasn’t convinced, he added, “You know how forgetful she can be.” It wasn’t a lie. Noémi was the queen of forgetting to charge her phone before leaving on a trip.

            He watched his son leave, waiting to hear his ascending footsteps before finally letting out a sigh.

            Heading for his study, he sat in front of his computer for a few minutes. He knew he needed to look up something, but he didn’t want to type the words out. He knew that the second he did, it would solidify the idea in his mind.

            Cracking his knuckles to relieve some of his anxiety, he forced himself to type the phrase, “ _How long until you can file a missing person report?_ ”

           

 

 

            In the morning, Siebold got ready for class faster than he ever had in the past. He prayed that when he walked downstairs, he would find his mother sitting at the table, or at least his father with news of her on a business trip.

            He found his father in the living room, head resting in his hand. “Father?” He asked.

            James started awake, looking over to his son. “Oh, good morning, Siebold,” he greeted.

            Seeing that his father was sleep deprived, unease worked its way into Siebold’s stomach. None of his prayers would be answered.

            “Anything from mom?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

            His father’s eyes fell. He sighed, shaking his head. “No. Not yet. Go to school. Try not to worry.”

            Siebold nodded, but knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything but that. All day, he could not concentrate. No matter how hard he tried, he could only think about his mother. During his lunch hour, anxiety prevented him from going home to eat. Instead, he stayed on campus, battling in the courtyard with his classmates.

            Normally, he and Wartortle seldom lost, and they would have to adjust their strength for their classmates. Today, they lost left and right.

            “Are you alright?”

            Siebold looked up from Wartortle to see Grant and his Tyrunt approaching them.

            He shrugged in response. “I have a lot on my mind,” he answered, standing.

            “I can tell,” Grant spoke, shifting his weight onto one foot. “What’s up?” He asked.

            Tyrunt approached Wartortle, giving him a loud sniff. Wartortle sighed, placing his little hand on the dinosaur’s snout in a gentle pat.

            Siebold shifted around, debating on whether or not to even tell Grant anything. He didn’t know if he should risk saying anything about the situation, only for his mother to then turn up. He didn’t want to look like a liar.

            “I haven’t seen my mom since yesterday, and father and I can’t get ahold of her.”

            The gravity of the situation hit Grant hard. “Oh,” was all he said.

            The wind kicked up dust, causing Wartortle to sneeze. He then looked up to his trainer, and whimpered at the defeated look in his eyes.

 

 

 

            Standing at the end of the house’s walkway, Siebold and Wartortle couldn’t force themselves to move. The warm air suffocated them, and the house looming ahead of them felt crushing.   
            A whimper from Wartortle forced Siebold to move forward.

            The house was quiet as they walked in. Their footsteps echoed as they headed for James’s study, hoping to find him there. A voice down the hall, instead, led them to his room.

            James had just turned around, taking his phone from his ear. His shoulders slumped seeing his son in the doorway. “Siebold,” he began, but found it hard to continue. He found himself with a growing headache as he fought to repress tears. “I’ve reported your mother missing. A police officer will be here soon, and you’ll probably need to speak to them as well.”   
            It broke his heart to watch his son go wide-eyed and tremble. “No! Sh-she’s just on a trip! She said she would be back!” He yelled.

            “Siebold.” His father wanted to sooth him, but he could barely do that for himself. Nothing in life could have prepared him to tell his son his mother wouldn’t be coming home.

            Refusing to listen, Siebold took off, running down the hall to his room. Wartortle ran after him, tears in his eyes.

            Siebold ripped his bag off his side, throwing it against the wall. Lying on his back, he felt Wartortle struggling to climb up his bed to join him.

            “Waaa!” The turtle pokémon whined.

            Siebold sighed as he sat up to pick him up. “You’ve been eating too much,” he commented, sitting the heavy pokémon on his bed.

            “Waa,” he responded, snapping his mouth in a loud clack.

            Sitting next to him, Siebold absentmindedly pet his head, trying to distract himself. It wouldn’t be long until that police officer arrived, he assumed.

            Wartortle grumbled, reaching for Siebold’s hand. He wasn’t too sure of what was going on, but the turmoil he was feeling from his trainer was enough to upset him.

           

 

 

            All week, Siebold’s concentration spiraled into near non-existence. He could give enough of his attention to not fail his classes, but nothing else. Nothing mattered to him. School, battling, art, nothing. If it weren’t for his father, eating wouldn’t have mattered to him, either.

            Arriving home on Friday, he noticed a police car outside his house once again. It left a burning in his chest.

            He found his father in the kitchen, two police officers with him. He held a stack of papers in his hands, and it was evident he had been crying at some point.

            “Father?” He ventured.

            James looked to him before returning his attention to the officers. “Thank you,” he said.

            They nodded, taking their leave.

            Siebold stepped aside, letting them pass him. He then looked back to his father.

            “Siebold,” he began, trying to stay as strong as possible for his next words, “the police think she willingly left.”

           

 

**Friday, 29 November 2019. Noon. Dendemille Town.**

 

 

            “He told me that the police thought she willingly left, and I shut down. I ran off to Centrico Plaza and sat there for hours. Eventually, Diantha showed up, and told me she didn’t want me to be alone.”   
            Nina nodded. “As in she thought you might hurt yourself?”

            He shrugged in response. “I don’t recall having any intentions to do so, but that could have been prevented by Diantha showing up. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t,” he admitted.

            He remained quiet while she wrote on her clipboard. She tapped the opposite side of the pen after a short minute, signaling she finished writing. “Did you ever figure out why she left?”

            “My father would never tell me, directly. From what I’ve gathered, she was having an affair, and left him for the other person. I suppose that’s what terrified me most.” He fiddled with the ring on his finger, trying not to allow himself to fall into anxiety over the subject.

            “How so?” She asked.

            “I saw nothing wrong with my parents relationship. Even looking back. There was no sign she didn’t want to be with him. I viewed their relationship as perfect. If something like that could go wrong in their relationship, it terrified me to think it could also happen to me.” He hated admitting it, but he knew it needed to be said. “It’s why I was so okay with Jean’s treatment. Even when it was blatantly obvious he was being manipulative, I guess I was okay with it because it meant he wouldn’t leave.”

            “What do you mean by blatantly obvious?” Nina asked.

            “I recognized that there were things I felt like I couldn’t talk to him about, because I knew it would upset him. I realized I would rather have him calm, than upset him with anything I was thinking or feeling. I was complacent in him physically harming me. I was at least calmed knowing he wouldn’t leave. Though, I guess not calmed enough because I would never say yes to his marriage proposals.” Saying it aloud allowed him to really assess the situation he had been in. It almost terrified him.

            She pushed some of her dark curly hair out of her face before asking her next question. “Do you worry Cress might leave you?”

            “The... _worry_ has crossed my mind. As I said: if my mother could leave my father, what’s stopping Cress from leaving me for no reason?” He felt guilty saying it. Usually, he would just stop the thought before it had time to grow, but allowing himself to say it made him feel almost sick.

            He stopped her before she could say anything. “Could we maybe touch on that more next week?” He asked. He didn’t know if he had the strength to confront that problem just yet.

            “Of course,” she responded, making a note on her paper. “Shall we go back to your mother leaving? How did you handle that afterwards?”

            He visibly relaxed. “I stayed with Diantha a lot for the first month. Other than that, I forced myself to just ignore everything. Over my winter break I worked full time with my father. It was the only thing I could distract myself with since Diantha started to become the celebrity she is now. I saw her less and less, and it …upset me I suppose.”       

            “The slow loss of Diantha couldn’t have been easy for you.”

            He nodded, shifting around in his chair. “It wasn’t. I lost my mother, and I was bitter about that, and to top it off, I felt like I was losing my best friend.”

            Nina looked to the clock. “Well,” she began, “since we’re running short on time, I want to end with a more positive note for you. What’s something good that happened this week, or that you’re looking forward to next week?” She asked.

            He thought it over for a few seconds. He had a few things he considered saying. “Cress is leaving Wednesday morning to go see his brother, Cilan, and will be back sometime Friday. I’ll be working the nights he’s gone, and it will be the first time I’ve worked multiple nights in a row. I’m looking forward to it.”

 


End file.
